Possession
by Sopphia
Summary: Just nonsense, Jessie POV


Title: Possesion  
Rating: PG, don't know, nothing happens anyways  
Disclamer: Don't own anything and won't be getting any money  
Summary: It's just nonsense, Jessie POV  
Feedback: Would really love it. It warms a writer's heart

Author notes: Anyone remember my stupid one-part fic, Be still my beating heart? Well, this is sort of a sequel. For those who don't remember or didn't read it, some background: Jessie and Katie are both at college, studying god knows what, in London. They share a loft. IMO someone like Katie would do something artsy, so I wrote about her drawing and painting and stuff. Rick, Lily, Zoe, etc did went to Australia years ago (right after season three in OandA timeline) and Jessie stayed with Karen. Katie has a dead brother. And that's all. This introduction wasn't really necessary, and I think it's actually longer than the fic itself.

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The bookshop was so crowded, I took a lot more time than I expected. And London's streets are crowded too, and a bit misty. It's not raining right now, but it will be soon. Hope I get home before. Not that I am tired of rain. I could never get tired of rain. But at this moment, it would suck.

All the supplies for the semester. The pile of book is heavy. I could really use Katie's company. She would carry allllll this pile for me. It's not that she is old-fashioned or anything, she just like to do this mock-act of good manners. She likes to do lots of mock-acts, and she laughts a lot. That's one of the first things that strangers notice about her. And sometimes that's all they notice. Not because they are dumb, but because that's all Katie would show them.

I could spend days watching Katie. Just learning by heart all her moves. The way she gets easily excited about the smallest stuff, the way she put her hands in her pockets every time she feels upset or embarassed, the delicacy with which she touches me… and the way she smells. And all her small gestures. I sounds like a stalker, I know. And Katie, she is that kind of person that seems open and honest, but then isn't. She talks and talks, with anybody and everybody, but never really says true stuff. I mean, she is not a lier. I remember one day in my attic, not along after we first met…

_What's so great about hiding who you are? _That caught me off-guard. Really. One of the many things I love of her: how she always makes me see the world from another place. I tend to have this fixed ideas, I don't know why, probably inhereted from mum. But for her, nothing is written in stone. And so she questions me, and totally blows me away. Maybe I should have grown used to her weirdness, but somehow she seems to still have surprises awaiting. I can't follow her thinking paths yet. I don't find that frustrating, thought. Just the opposite, I feel very grateful for everything she has shared with me.

Because, I know she's honest with me. She has always been, no matter how long ago I go back in time… when we barely knew eachother, for example. _Do you feel like you fit anywhere in this school?_ Or in this world. I wonder, does she still feels so far away from everything, so foreign? And I know she does. And I hate it, I hate it that she still hasn't find whatever she's looking for. I hate that I can't find it for her. And I hate it that I can't replace all the things she has lost.

Katie knows something about loss. And there is this moment that I both resent and treasure, because it was a first time in many ways.

_We were walking in one of the empty sport courts at school. It was very hot, but Katie had wanted to wander somewhere isolated, and I just followed her. I knew what her intentions were. Aproaching a hidden tribune, Katie sat, and with a big grin, grabbed my hand and plopped me on her lap. "This is so cheesy", I told her. Sneaking to make out at lunckbreak. "Come on, as if you weren't…" I didn't let her finish what promised to be a very inappropriate sentence, and quickly took her lips between mine. She closed her eyes, and entangled her fingers in my hair. I felt her eagerly mirrowing my pressure, and I wanted to give her more. After some minutes, she suddenly backed just a little. "You have no idea. I love you so much." I caressed her cheek, a smile on my lips. She wasn't finished. "It doesn't matter how many times I say it, or how many times I kiss you. I still can't express it." She was rambling. Everytime she became overwhelmed, she started rambling like a five year-old. "You mean everything for me, Jessie. I haven't thought I would be able to love. I haven't…" And sometimes, she said more than she wanted to say. I took a deep breath, and asked her vety quietly, "Katie? Why wouldn't you be able?" Her eyes were watering, and I knew that was it. Ever since Tad told me, in that infamous party, that one of Katie's brother had died, I was expecting her to talk about it. She never did, of course. Until then. And then she talked a lot, but she was also crying so hard, I barely understood a word. That wasn't important. I just let her cry all her tears. Time passed, without any of us noticing it, and when we finally remember, we were very, very late.  
That was the second time I skipped. Katie couldn't go back to class in that state, and I couldn't left her._

The thing I remember the most of that day are her eyes. They were so raw and so full of anxiety. I pull up the stairs. A few more, and I would be home again. I could write a poem about Katie's eyes. Her eyes that day, and her eyes every day. How they always dart all over the place. And how they are completely fixed in mine right before she kisses me, or when she tells that she loves me. She tells me that very often. "Just so you never forget." And it never sounds less crucial.

There is something else, about her eyes. Something I don't like. When she is painting, it's like I am not really there. Her eyes become glassy and distant, and she seems to be in another place. A place where I can't reach her. That's a scary thought.

Right now, she is doing just what I described. She is splashing some bright red paint on one of her works. It seems like blood. And so I go, and turn her in my direction. She was so caught up, and I used a bit of force. She blinks, because she is not a rought person. I wonder, what else does she hide? I put both my arms around her waist.

"Jess. Got your books?"

I have forgotten all about them. I take a quick peek at the low table near the door. They are there. Of course, I dropped them just after locking.

"Yeah." I say, not releasing her one inch.

"It's been like, two hours since you left. And I couln't do anything right… look at this red…" she tries to escape my hold to show me something on her new canvas, but I don't let her, and she doesn't insist. Her face softens a bit, and she continues with a whisper "I worry about you, you know? I'm always thinking about you".

Then, I feel silly. I should never, ever feel jealousy. Katie doesn't give me one single reason. And also, I feel a bit guilty. I shouldn't make things more difficult for her, all the time taking care of my stupid little ego. She should be able to rest on me, to find some kind of peace…

"You know what, Katie? I think you fit so well here." And I add a bit selfconciously, "In my arms".

Her eyes are fixed on me again, and my mind is at a total loss. I let go of everything. She has this slightly confused look. Normally, she's the one to make random romantic comments. I just shrug my shoulders, dismissing any verbal answers I could give, and gently put my lips upon hers. It's almost like an apology.

(END)


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